Hazbin Hotel: When Sir Pentious Met the first Egg Boi
by InGodzHandz
Summary: This is what happened in life when Sir Pentious met the first Egg Boi, Toulouse. This is connected to Satan's Plan, but it is developed enough to be its own thing.


In the warming English month of March 1870, Toulouse watched under the door while the guards who brought him his daily bread walked away.

The orphaned, 15-year-old French immigrant had few joys left in his world. He was not going to let the workhouse take his last bit of happiness away.

When Toulouse was sure the guards had left, he picked up his cup of water and his daily gruel and walked over to the spot where the sun was coming through the window in his isolation cell where he had been since the day before when he was locked up for his most recent escape attempt.

Solitary confinement was lonely, but it was preferable to having to watch his back constantly around the other maniacs who lived in the workhouse's mental wing.

Toulouse set the water and the gruel next to him while he pulled the treasures that he had managed to hide from the workhouse staff out of the pocket of the pants and from underneath the shirt that made up his uniform.

First, Toulouse took off his mother's rosary and began to pray. His mother would always wear the rosary whether she was working in the fields of their farm at home or taking their family to their local church.

His mother was the one who taught him how to pray and how to read their French-translated Bible. She was the one who always had hope even during their family's downfall. She was the one who gave him that rosary before she died in that workhouse's hospice wing.

When Toulouse finished praying, he opened his father's silver pocket watch to see the photograph of him and his parents inside. It was a precious item. His father bought it during a time of brief prosperity in their fortunes and had the family come together for the picture when a photographer visited their town.

His father was proud of his pocket watch. He had worked hard to earn it as his family had worked hard to keep their farm going and as Toulouse had worked to cope with his slowness. He was proud of all of that, but especially of his son. His father gave him the pocket watch before he died and showed him how to maintain it to be sure it stayed clean and kept accurate time. Even though the farm and his parents were gone, Toulouse kept that duty religiously.

Toulouse cranked the watch, and when he was sure it was ready, he set it down so that their family photo was facing him so he could have a visual reminder that he was not alone.

"Bon ciel, maman et papa!" ("Enjoy heaven, mom and dad!") Toulouse said before he took a gulp of his gruel and a sip of his water.

Then finally, Toulouse picked up his last treasure, a wind-up monkey. It was his tenth birthday present his father bought for him from a travelling tinkerer that came to their village. Its paint had faded and it was nowhere near as shiny as it once was, but Toulouse still loved it. In the workhouse, it was the only thing that kept him entertained.

Toulouse wound the monkey up and quickly set it on the ground, but nothing happened. He tried winding the toy up again, but nothing happened.

"Non," Toulouse said almost in tears as he held the toy in the sunlight and sipped some water. "Ne casses pas. S'il te plaît …" (No, don't break. Please.)

Toulouse turned the gear again and again and again, but nothing worked. He eventually shoved the toy back in his pocket and started crying into the gruel he sipped.

Unfortunately, that was when Toulouse heard some men coming his way. He put all his treasures away, started eating and drinking like nothing was wrong, and waited for them to leave, but instead, Toulouse heard his door being unlocked and saw it being opened.

The workhouse supervisor, a man Toulouse had come to detest, was standing there in his nice clothes and well-fed, middle-aged body.

"'Ere ya go," the man said gleefully in his cockney accent that Toulouse could only remember as a result of his restored memories since at the time he still didn't understand English. "Here's the sad little troublemaker."

The man quickly stepped out of the way allowing two men in white coats with a white straitjacket walk in.

Toulouse didn't know what the device was, but he didn't like it.

"Non, s'il vous plaît …" Toulouse mumbled. (No, please…)

"What was that?" one of the guards asked.

"Don't worry 'bout it," the supervisor replied. "He's a mentally deficient frog."

"Non!" Toulouse yelled as the men closed in on top of him and started forcing him into their restraints. "Non! Non! Non! Non! Dieu! Aide-moi! S'il te plaît !" (No! God! Help me! Please!)

"Quiet down, ya frog!" the supervisor yelled as they finished restraining him. "This is for your own good!"

Toulouse couldn't understand a word of what they were saying as they pushed him out of his cell and started walking him towards the courtyard.

Toulouse did not know what was happening, but he was sure that he didn't want to go where they wanted him to. So, he kicked backwards against one of the men in white coats as hard as he could and took off without looking behind him as soon as the other guard let go.

"Hey! Get back here, you witless frog!" the supervisor yelled as loudly as he could while the other man in the white coat tried to help up his colleague.

Toulouse ran through the bleak halls, down the stairs, and into the courtyard as quickly as his feet would carry him. Surprisingly, everyone stayed out of his way and only stared at him like a maniac. It was just as well. Toulouse had to escape.

All the images passed like blurs to his frightened eyes. His mind didn't stop to consider what he saw for even a second. Toulouse couldn't afford to. That was, until he saw him, the man who would become Sir Pentious.

As he was running through the courtyard, Toulouse saw someone weird, a type of person he had never seen before. The man had brown skin, long black hair, and piercing steel-brown eyes. He was dressed in the fine clothes of an upper-class gentleman. A black coat, a black- and white-striped tie, a black top hat, black pants, black shoes, and holding a black cane. He stood out among the poor and white people Touloue was used to seeing.

He was a curious enough sight that the teen momentarily forgot about his escape…

"There, you are, you little bastard!" one of the men in white coats yelled before tackling the poor child to the ground.

"Arretez! Laissez-moi! S'il vous plaît!" Toulouse yelled from the ground. (Stop it! Just leave me alone! Please!)

"Oi, what's this?" the supervisor said with a twisted smile as he picked up Toulouse's pocket watch from the ground and opened it. "Oh, this was yours? Wasn't it?"

Toulouse's face flushed with despair despite not understanding the guard's words.

"C'est le mien," Toulouse said from the ground. " C'était un cadeau de mon père." (That's mine. That was a gift from my father.)

"Quiet!" the other guard yelled at his unfortunate prisoner.

"I say," the guard said crouching down and holding up the watch sadistically in front of the poor teenager's face. "Why would you hold out on us like this, Number 22? You know damn well that personal possessions are forbidden. I'll be keeping this."

Toulouse couldn't understand the words but even he knew what it meant when his supervisor put the silver watch in his pocket.

"Non!" Toulouse yelled trying to lunge himself towards him before being stopped by the other guard.

"That's enough out of you, ya stupid twit!" the other man said as he and his colleague forced Toulouse back to his feet and forced him to walk forward towards their prison wagon.

"Non! Non! Non! Dieu! Maman! Papa! M'aidez! S'il vous plait!" Toulouse yelled desperately with tears falling down his face. "M'AIDEZ!" (No! No! No! God! Mom! Dad! Help me! Please! HELP ME!)

"HALT!" an unfamiliar voice screamed in the background.

Toulouse and the men turned around to see the unfamiliar man in fancy clothes marching towards them.

"Mr. Pendleton, what's the meaning of this?!" the supervisor yelled running to catch up with him.

"I've made up my mind," the future Sir Pentious said calmly. "I want this boy to be my assistant."

"Mr. Pendleton, you can't be serious," the supervisor replied upon catching up. "The child is an imbecile. You don't want him."

"Yes, I do," the fancy-dressed man replied sternly. "The child is not that slow. He is only acting like this because he's afraid."

"The child is quite slow, sir," the supervisor said callously. "I've worked with his sort for years. You should have seen him when his mother was dying from the fever here a month ago. He cried over her and spoke to her like a child would. He's reluctant to interact with anyone and slow to learn anything. The sanitorium is the best thing for him."

"Hardly," the strange man replied. "Those prisons aren't suitable for an animal, much less a vulnerable child. You can't tell me otherwise. I've read the reports from the undercover journalists."

"Uh," one guard said nervously. "You know how those reporters like to make up fake news…"

"It isn't fake," the strange man interrupted without breaking his intense stare. "Now, hand the boy over to me. I'll give him employment and a better life than you quacks possibly could."

"Uh, sir," the supervisor chimed in. "This is hardly proper. The boy needs to go to the doctors…"

"Tell me. How much money is the asylum giving you to send them the boy?" the strange man interrupted again. "I know they get a certain amount from the government whenever they receive a new patient. How big a cut are they giving you?"

The supervisor fell silent.

Toulouse didn't understand the words, but somehow, he knew that this man was fighting for him. Nevertheless, Toulouse refused to give him anything but an occasional glance. The man's intimidating eyes scared him.

"Mr. Pendleton, your accusations are outlandish!" the supervisor yelled angrily. "I must ask you to leave at once!"

"How does 200 pounds sound?" the strange man replied.

The supervisor's demeanor completely changed.

He smiled and looked around the courtyard to be sure he wasn't being watched before he replied, "I'll take it."

"Good," the strange man replied taking a check book out of his pocket, writing a quick check, tearing it out, and handing it to the supervisor.

The supervisor's eyes grew bigger as he took the check, looked it over, and replied, "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Pendleton. Guards, let the boy go."

The two guards quickly undid the straps of Toulouse's straitjacket and pulled the restraint off him before backing away.

Toulouse moved his arms around in relief and in confusion at what had just transpired. He looked at the strange man for a second, then looked at the open courtyard gate, and then at the pocket where the supervisor had placed his father's pocket watch.

"Cheerio, Number 22," the supervisor said placing his hand on Toulouse's shoulder. "Be a good boy for your new master, eh?"

The teenager knew it was time to act. Before the supervisor could react, he grabbed the pocket watch from his pocket, but unfortunately, the supervisor grabbed his wrist. Toulouse tried pulling his thin wrist away from the man without any luck.

"You little ungrateful…" the supervisor muttered angrily before the strange man placed his hand on his.

"Mr. Smith, I must ask you not to assault my employee in this manner," the strange man said firmly. "If you wish to continue, I will have to alert the authorities."

"Get your hands off me, you…" the supervisor replied impulsively before he remembered who he was talking to.

The strange man gave the supervisor a quick glare before he smirked and asked, "Are you planning on finishing that sentence or would you rather return the only possession you haven't sold on the black market to my assistant and call it a day?"

The supervisor visibly flushed before he released Toulouse's hand prompting the strange man to do the same.

Toulouse wasn't sure what had just happened, but he looked the pocket watch over in his hands, looked at the open gate, turned to the supervisor, and muttered, "Adieu, pute." (Farewell, c***.)

Toulouse turned around and walked as quickly as he could to the open gate.

"What the devil does that mean?" the supervisor asked.

The strange man only replied, "Good day to you, sir," before he walked briskly to catch up with his confused new assistant.

Toulouse barely noticed the man walking behind him. He looked around at the streets and the open skies that he had not seen since he came there with his mother. A few tears of relief and grief came down his face before he took his first free step into the streets of London.

"Garçon, comment vous vous appelez?" Toulouse heard the strange man ask as he put his hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. (Boy, what is your name?)

Toulouse turned around in shock as the man took his hand off his shoulder. That was the first time he had heard any Englishman speak French.

"Garçon, je vous pose un question," the strange man said. (Boy, I am asking you a question.)

"Uh, Edouard Boyce de Toulouse, monsieur," Toulouse replied nervously avoiding eye contact.

"Oh?" the strange man replied with a softer expression. "Je m'appelle Sai Edward Pendleton. Je suis un Edouard aussi. Alors, je vous appelerai Toulouse et vous m'appellerez patron pour éviter toute confusion. D'accord?"

(Oh? My name is Sai Edward Pendleton. I'm an Edouard, too. So, I will call you Toulouse and you will call me boss to avoid confusion. Okay?)

"Patron?" Toulouse asked in visible confusion. (Boss?)

"Oui, maintenant, vous travaillez pour moi," Mr. Pendleton said before turning to walk down the street in the opposite direction. "Suivez-moi." (Yes, you are working for me now. Follow me.)

Toulouse looked around the street nervously for a moment while tears involuntarily fell down his thin cheeks. He found that he could not move from his spot as his entire body shook with fear.

This man had saved his life, but he still didn't trust him. Toulouse had learned not to trust anyone. For all he knew, this Pendleton man could be worse than the workhouse.

On the other hand, Toulouse had no job, no family, and nowhere to go. Did he really have a choice?

Toulouse found himself feeling overwhelmed by it all. He didn't know what to do and didn't have either of his parents to guide him. He tried to make himself pray as he started hyperventilating and letting the tears fall more freely.

But then, Toulouse felt a gloved hand gently grab his hand and start pulling him behind him. Toulouse looked up to see his patron guiding him to his large navy-blue carriage parked up the road.

"Toulouse, ne pleurez jamais devant vos ennemis," his patron said firmly. "Cachez vos larmes jusqu'à ce que vous soyez hors de danger. Ne les laissez pas vous voir pleurer. Cela leur dit seulement qu'ils ont remporté une victoire. Ne vous inquiétez pas maintenant. Personne ne vous blessera plus."

(Toulouse, never cry in front of your enemies. Hide your tears until you're out of danger. Do not let them see you cry. That only tells them that they have won a victory. Don't worry now. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore.)

Toulouse stopped crying but found he could only say, "Oui, patron. Merci." (Yes, boss. Thank you.)

"De rien," the patron said finally stopping in front of the carriage, letting go of his hand, and opening the door. "Ascendez s'il vous plaît." (You're welcome. Get in if you please.)

Toulouse climbed in without another thought while Pendleton gave some instructions to his valet. Something in the man's tone reassured him. Somehow, he knew he understood what he was feeling.

Toulouse looked around the carriage's interior in absolute wonder. The inside was as blue as the outside. The seats were made of soft leather that covered the whole interior. The teen couldn't help but run his fingers over the upholstery. Toulouse had seen carriages many times, but he had never ridden inside of one before. Neither had his parents.

His thoughts were interrupted when his patron climbed inside the carriage, shut the door, and sat on the seat opposite him.

About a moment later, the carriage started moving. Toulouse looked out the windows on either side and watched the world move around them.

For a moment, Toulouse forgot that his boss was even there and pulled his wind-up monkey out of his pocket. In the light coming through the windows, he attempted to wind the toy again but only breathed out a sigh of disappointment.

"Toulouse?" Pendleton asked causing the boy reflexively shove the toy back in his pocket. " Quel âge avez-vous?" (Toulouse? How old are you?)

"Quel est le jour du mois?" Toulouse replied. (What is the day of the month?)

" Le 14e de mars," Pendleton replied. (The 14th of March.)

"Alors, j'ai 15 ans," Toulouse replied. "Mon anniversaire était le 8eme." (So, I'm 15. My birthday was on the 8th.)

Pendleton looked at his new assistant thoughtfully and said, "Mon anniversaire était l'11eme. J'ai 30 ans." (My birthday was on the 11th. I'm 30.)

"Bon anniversaire," Toulouse muttered under his breath while staring out the window. (Happy Birthday)

"Toulouse," the future Sir Pentious said in an authoritative tone Toulouse would come to recognize. " Quand vous parlez avec quelqu'un, vous devez les regarder aux yeux. Maintenant, regardez-moi aux yeux et répétez-vous clairement."

(Toulouse, when you speak with someone, you must look them in the eyes. Now, look me in the eyes and repeat yourself clearly.)

Toulouse hesitated to look his new boss in the eyes. That was something he couldn't do most of the times with his own parents, much less complete strangers.

"Maintenant, Toulouse," his boss repeated. (Now, Toulouse)

Toulouse reluctantly looked his patron in the eyes and said more clearly, "Bon anniversaire." (Happy Birthday.)

"Bon," his boss replied. "Merci. Bon anniversaire à vous aussi." (Good. Thank you. Happy Birthday to you, too.)

Toulouse looked away again nervously without responding.

His patron sighed and said, "We are going to have to work very hard on your social skills, young man. They are very underdeveloped."

Toulouse, not understanding his patron's words, continued looking out the window until the carriage came to a sudden stop.

"Bon, nous avons arrivé," Pendleton said in incorrect French. (Good, we have arrived.)

" Où'est-ce que nous _sommes_ arrivés, monsieur le patron ?" Toulouse said shyly correcting his boss's French. (Where have we arrived, Mr. Boss?)

"Nous sommes au magasin de vêtements pour hommes," his patron said opening the carriage door and climbing out in front of his assistant. "Nous allons acheter de nouveaux vêtements pour vous."

(We are at the men's clothing store. We are going to buy some new clothes for you.)

Toulouse didn't move from his seat but asked, "Pourquoi?" (Why?)

"Parce qu'à partir d'aujourd'hui, vous serez mon assistant," Pendleton responded. "Vous ne pouvez plus vous habiller comme un homme pauvre." (Because starting today, you will be my assistant. You cannot dress like a poor man anymore.)

"Mais je suis un pauvre fermier," Toulouse protested. "J'ai pas d'argent." (But I'm a poor farmer. I don't have any money.)

"Vous étiez un pauvre fermier," the future Sir Pentious said looking his assistant in the eyes. "Maintenant, vous êtes l'assistant d'un riche inventeur. J'ai besoin de vous habiller comme ça. Ne vous inquiétez pas. Je paierai tout. Considérez-le comme votre cadeau d'anniversaire. Maintenant, allons-y, Toulouse."

(You were a poor farmer. Now, you are the assistant of a wealthy inventor. I need to dress you like it. Don't worry. I will pay for everything. Consider it your birthday present. Now, let's go, Toulouse.)

"Oui, monsieur," Toulouse replied quietly as he exited the carriage. (Yes, sir.)

"Par ici," his patron said opening the door allowing Toulouse to enter in front of him. (Right this way.)

Toulouse stepped inside and could not believe his eyes. Before him was a large store with rows of gentleman's clothing as far as the eye could see. On one wall were tuxedos. On another wall were day outfits. On another wall were shoes. On another wall were hats.

The teen had never even set foot in a clothing store before. In his village in Normandy, all clothing was hand-made or bought from a seamstress like his mother.

Toulouse's eyes were bulging and he was smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh, mon Dieu, (Oh, my God,)" Toulouse whispered to himself before he stepped out of the doorway and up to the clothing to get a closer look ignoring the shocked expressions of the other gentlemen.

Toulouse walked up to a row of dinner jackets and allowed his fingers to run over the smooth texture of the fabric.

"C'est si doux," Toulouse muttered happily to himself still oblivious to the offended whispers of other gentlemen in the store as he enjoyed the feeling of his fingers on the soft fabric. "Comment est le tissu si doux?" (It's so soft. How is the fabric this soft?)

Suddenly, his right hand was grabbed by Pendleton who said, "Qu'est-ce que vous faites, Toulouse? Vous ne pouvez pas simplement toucher des vêtements comme ça quand vous êtes au magasin. C'est impoli. Maintenant, allez. Nous allons trouver le propriétaire du magasin et vous mettre dans de meilleurs vêtements afin que vous puissiez sortir de cet uniforme hideuse. Cela sonne-t-il pour vous?"

(What are you doing, Toulouse? You cannot just touch clothing like that when you're in the store. That's impolite. Now, come on. Let's find the store owner and get you into some better clothes so that we can get you out of that hideous uniform. Does that sound good to you?)

"Oui, monsieur," Toulouse replied happily walking ahead of his boss to look at more clothes. (Yes, sir.)

"Regardez mes yeux et répétez ça encore une fois s'il vous plaît," Pendleton said patiently placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking away. (Look at my eyes and say that again please.)

Toulouse looked in his boss's eyes in poorly concealed annoyance and said, "Oui, monsieur." (Yes, sir.)

The teen could not understand for the life of him why his boss insisted on so much eye contact when nobody else did. He felt the flutter of annoyance come through him, but his fear managed to suppress it from expressing itself any further.

"Bon," his boss said letting go of his shoulder and gently nudging him away from the clothes with a hand on his lower back. "Rappelez, Toulouse, vous utilisez vos yeux pour dire à quelqu'un que vous écoutez. "

(Good. Remember, Toulouse, you use your eyes to tell someone that you're listening.)

"Hello! Hello! Hello, Mr. Sai Pendleton!" a lively voice said from across the room. "Long time, no see. Who's that you got there with you?"

A fancily-clad tailor wearing a white-collared shirt and matching brown vest and trousers that matched his thinning hair and eager eyes came up to the pair of them and excitedly shook Pendleton's hand.

"Ah, Mr. James," the future Sir Pentious replied cordially. "You're just the man I wanted to see. This young man here is my new assistant, Toulouse. He desperately needs a new wardrobe."

"I can see that," James said looking at the poor teen's clothes in absolute disgust causing the latter to fidget uncomfortably. "Where on earth did you find this robin? He's an absolute mess."

"He's a French immigrant fresh from the workhouse."

"Explains the ragged clothes. We got our work cut out for us. That's for sure. So, what did you have in mind for him?"

"Well…"

Toulouse didn't listen to the rest of their conversation.

His wandering mind fell upon a large sign that was advertising hats. Recognizing the letters but not knowing what the word they spelled meant or how to even pronounce it, he went closer to investigate.

Toulouse had loved reading and studying letters ever since he was a small child learning the alphabet from his mother. He learned more in his country school though he struggled to function in the classroom with the other children his age, but he always preferred reading at home with his parents from the newspaper, from his father's books, or from his mother's Bible.

Sadly, most of the books were sold when his father died. The workhouse supervisor sold the few that were left leaving Toulouse with nothing to read for the time he was locked away with the other lunatics. His eyes were starving for letters to read again, even if the words they made were not written in his native language.

The sign was written in gold leaf on a black background. The letters were pretty, but the word they spelled was strange. It was one letter off from 'chat,' the French word for cat, so Toulouse tried pronouncing it that way out loud, despite his cultural inability to pronounce the H sound.

"'At?" Toulouse read out loud trying to figure out what the word could possibly mean. "'At? 'At? 'At?"

"Hat," Toulouse heard his patron correct from behind him. "Le mot est hat." (Hat. The word is hat.)

"'At?" Toulouse struggled to say.

"Hat," Pendleton said more slowly.

"Qu'est-ce que c'est ?" Toulouse asked. (What is that?)

« C'est l'anglais pour le chapeau, » Pendleton replied. « Pouvez-vous lire? »

(It's English for hat. Can you read?)

"Oui," Toulouse said nodding towards his boss.

"Pouvez-vous écrire?" Pendleton asked raising his eyebrow. (Can you write?)

"Un peu," Toulouse said looking away. (A little bit)

"Intéressant," Pendleton said placing his hand on Toulouse's back and gently nudging him forward as they headed to the back of the store. "Ce qui me sauve un peu de travail…"

(Interesting. That saves me some work…)

"Comment?" Toulouse interrupted standing in place and confusedly looking back at his patron. (What?)

"Je vous expliquerai plus tard," Sir Pentious said nudging his young assistant forward so that they could get back to the dressing area in a timely manner. "Maintenant, il est temps pour le tailleur de prendre vos mesures afin que nous puissions vous acheter de nouveaux vêtements. D'accord ?"

(I will explain later. Now, it's time for the tailor to take your measurements so that we can buy you some new clothes. Okay?)

"D'accord," Toulouse agreed nervously as the pair made their way behind the curtain into a room with a platform surrounded by mirrors.

Toulouse looked around in amazement. He had never seen that many mirrors in one place. It was strange and kind of unnerving.

"Toulouse, marchez sur la plate-forme s'il vous plait," Pendleton said from behind jarring Toulouse from his thoughts. (Toulouse, step on the platform please.)

Toulouse quickly obeyed his patron's orders and stepped on the platform in the middle of the room surrounded by all the mirrors.

"Bon, maintenant, restez immobile," Pendleton said nodding to the tailor who stepped on the platform and began using a measuring tape to get his measurements.

Toulouse understood what was happening. His mother would do the same thing whenever she sewed him some new clothes.

"Good Lord," the tailor said in amazement while measuring the teen's skinny torso. "The lad is nothing but skin and bones, Mr. Pendleton."

"That doesn't surprise me," the future snake demon replied in disgust while the tailor continued working. "I've read all about how the ones in power treat their inmates in these so-called 'charitable institutions.' They ration all their daily meals so that they're always hungry. Then, if they step out of line in any way, they're starved as discipline. That's what happened to this unfortunate young man here."

"Absolutely mad, those places are," the tailor said writing down his last measurements. "Anyway, we've got the clothes you want, the only problem is that they're goin' to be loose on him."

"Toulouse will be eating food from my table," Pendleton reassured. "He'll be filling out his clothes before too long."

"You're a noble man, you are, takin' the lad in like this," the tailor said stepping off the platform to fetch Toulouse's new clothes from the other room. "Your father would be proud."

Pendleton smiled slightly before his new assistant interrupted him with a question, "Patron, que se passe-t-il maintenant? Où va-t-il?" (Boss, what's happening now? Where's he going?)

"Il va chercher vos nouveaux vêtements," the future Sir Pentious said patiently to his future minion. « Soyez patient, Toulouse. » (He's going to fetch your new clothes. Be patient, Toulouse.)

Toulouse nodded while sitting down where he was standing and looking at his face in the mirror. His face looked much thinner than it was when he had left France, much dirtier, too.

"Toulouse, comment savez-vous lire ? " Pendleton suddenly asked him. (Toulouse, how do you know how to read?)

« Il y avait une école dans mon village, monsieur, » Toulouse said without looking back at his boss. « Ma mère lirait le Bible avec moi et mon père avait plusieurs livres aussi. »

(There was a school in my village, sir. My mother would read the Bible with me and my father had many other books, too.)

"Hmmm…Intéressant," Pendleton replied just as James walked back in boxes of clothes. (Hmmm…Interesting.)

"Here, we go," the tailor said setting his boxes down on the platform. "Alright, then, lad. Stand up and let's get you dressed."

Toulouse looked at his boss for a translation. When the future Sir Pentious translated the request, the teen's face contorted in fear.

Toulouse's memories immediately returned what happened at the workhouse the day his mother finally succumbed to the fever. He was dragged to a washroom, stripped of his clothes, forced into a bathtub of cold water, held down, and scrubbed from head to toe.

Toulouse would hide his mother's rosary and his father's pocket watch in his mouth and his wind-up monkey in his fist whenever the workers came to check on him and his mother, so he had the items on hand when all this was happening. In that cold bathtub, he kept his mouth and his fist shut tight while the frightening hands of strangers scrubbed his entire body.

His worst fear was having his few remaining possessions pried away from him, so Toulouse held in his urge to scream when he felt their terrible rough hands violating him and kept his eyes shut tight so that he wouldn't have to see them. He wouldn't scream until later that night when he was finally locked away with the other lunatics.

Noticing his assistant's distress, Pendleton asked, « Toulouse, aimeriez-vous vous déshabiller et vous habiller ? » (Toulouse, would you like to undress and dress yourself?)

Having brought himself back to reality, Toulouse nodded his head shyly.

"D'accord," the future Sir Pentious said calmly holding out his hand. "Voulez-vous que je tienne vos choses pour vous pendant que vous changez vos vêtements ? »

(Okay. Would you like me to hold your things for you while you change your clothes?)

Toulouse clutched the items in his pockets, took a tentative yet determined step back, looked his patron defensively in the eyes, and shook his head vigorously.

Pendleton sighed as his face settled into a disappointed yet understanding smile.

Then he replied, "OK, alors. Changez vos vêtements et dites-nous quand vous avez terminé ou si vous avez besoin d'aide. »

(Ok, then. Change your clothes and tell us when you have finished or if you need help.)

Toulouse nodded before Pendleton gestured to the tailor and said, "Come on, James. He wants to change his clothes without an audience."

"Is there something wrong with him?" James asked as he followed Pendleton out. "What was that all about?"

"Cruel treatment from that workhouse, I suspect," the future snake demon replied sadly. "He doesn't trust me with his possessions. He's probably learned not to trust anyone because of that place. No wonder. They sold almost all of his and his mother's possessions…"

Only when Toulouse saw his patron shut the curtain behind him did he open the boxes. His eyes grew wide in wonder.

The clothes before him were made of the soft, rich, ornately-decorated fabric that Toulouse had only seen in passing as a poor man. They were nothing like the clothes he was wearing or any of the clothes he had ever worn in France. Yet here they were: white dress shirts, black dress coats, black overcoats, differently-colored pants, silky vests with intricate patterns embroidered into them, black boots, clean knickers, clean pairs of socks, silky ties, a black top hat… It felt too good to be true.

Toulouse gazed at the clothing in disbelief for a minute as he ran his fingers over them to feel the texture of the different fabrics and the different materials.

"Toulouse?" his master's voice called interrupting his thoughts. "Avez-vous fini? Nous voulons voir."

(Toulouse? Are you done yet? We want to see.)

Toulouse snapped back to reality and replied, "Une minute, patron!" before he scrambled to take his clothes off. (One minute, boss!)

Toulouse pulled his things out of his prison coat, set the items on the floor, and started undressing. After completely disrobing, he pulled on a fresh pair of nickers, a pair of brown- and black-striped pants, a white dress shirt, a yellow vest, fresh black socks, black boots, a black coat, and a tie that he tied around his neck like an ascot for good measure.

"Êtes-vous prêt, Toulouse?" his patron called again. (Are you ready, Toulouse?)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse responded putting the black top hot on as a final touch.

Pendleton and James came in to look at Toulouse. They paused and studied his appearance before giving pleased smiles.

"My, my," James said stepping on the platform to fix Toulouse's outfit. "Say what you will about this boy, but he has good taste, Pendleton."

"Indeed, he has," Pendleton agreed following behind him. "We just need to make a few minor adjustments."

Toulouse stepped back fearfully before his patron held up his hand in a halting motion and said, "Ne vous inquiétez pas, Toulouse. Nous ajustons seulement votre tenue."

(Don't worry, Toulouse. We are only adjusting your outfit.)

Toulouse made himself stand still as James tucked his shirt into his pants and the future Sir Pentious tied his tie for him.

Once they had finished, Pendleton smiled and said, "Voilà. Beaucoup mieux." (That's it. Much better.)

He and the tailor looked around the assistant to see how his clothes fit.

"You were right about the clothes being loose on him," Pendleton said rubbing his chin. "But I don't think it should be a big issue. Once he starts gaining some weight, I know he'll fill the clothes out. I'll take the lot."

"Glad to hear ya say that, sir," James said as he started picking up boxes to take up front. "Shall he exit in those clothes he's wearing?"

"Oh, God, yes," the future snake demon said. "Burn that uniform in your fireplace. No poor man should ever suffer those clothes."

"I couldn't agree more, sir," James said flashing a smile before turning away to continue his work. "If you need me, I'll be out there."

Pendleton nodded his head and turned back to his assistant who was hanging his rosary on his neck and stuffing his other things in his pants' pocket.

Toulouse had hardly finished putting his things away when he noticed his patron adjusting the rosary around his neck.

"Patron?" Toulouse asked with a start of surprise as Pendleton placed the cross of the necklace underneath Toulouse's new shirt.

"Vous devez cacher votre chapelet, Toulouse, » Pendleton said calmly. « Il y a beaucoup de protestants intolérants à Londres. »

(You must hide your rosary, Toulouse. There are many intolerant protestants in London.)

« Oh, mon Dieu, » Toulouse replied fearfully feeling the rosary underneath his shirt. (Oh, my God.)

Noticing his fear, the future Sir Pentious used his hand to move his assistant's chin so that he was looking at his eyes and said, "Ne vous inquiétez pas, mon garçon. Je peux vous protéger. D'accord?"

(Don't worry, my boy. I can protect you. Okay?)

Toulouse nodded his head as his patron stepped back, unbuttoned his coat revealing his own silver vest, pulled out a pocket watch of his own, and said, "Maintenant, regardez-moi. Voyez-vous cette montre de poche?" (Now, watch me. You see this pocket watch?)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse replied confusedly.

"Vous voyez comment je place ma montre de poche dans ma poche de gilet? » the future snake demon said while slowly showing Toulouse how to arrange the chain through the button holes and from pockets of his vest. "Je veux que vous fassiez la même chose avec la vôtre. Un gentleman ne voyage jamais sans une montre de poche, et une belle comme la vôtre devrait être porté avec fierté. »

(You see how I place my pocket watch in my vest pocket? I want you to do the same thing with yours. A gentleman never travels without his pocket watch, and a beautiful one like yours should be worn with pride.)

"Mais c'est cassé. La montre de poche est tombée de ma poche quand ces monstres m'ont attaqué, » Toulouse complained. (But it's broken. The pocket watch fell out of my pocket when those monsters tackled me.)

"Ne vous inquiétez pas," his patron replied. « Nous pouvons le réparer plus tard. Mais pour l'instant, vous devez apprendre à porter votre montre de poche comme un gentleman. »

(Don't worry. We can repair it later. But for now, you need to learn how to wear your pocket watch like a gentleman.)

Toulouse pulled his pocket watch out of his pocket and imitated his patron as he showed him how to tie his pocket watch through the buttons of his vest. It was easier than it looked, so the job was done in no time.

Toulouse looked down and smiled as his patron said, "Bien fait. Maintenant, vous ressemblez un gentleman. Maintenant, si vous voulez m'excuser, je dois payer pour les vêtements."

(Well done. Now, you look like a gentleman. Now, if you would excuse me, I must go pay for the clothes.)

Before Toulouse could look back up, Pendleton had left the dressing area.

Toulouse continued looking over his new clothes in the mirror in disbelief. He felt like a prince, a king, or a noble from France's past or a lucky peasant from one of the fairy tales his parents told him as a child. God had looked down on him with favor at last. He almost couldn't comprehend it all. It was too good to be true.

"Toulouse, allons-y!" Pendleton called from outside the dressing room snapping him back to reality.

"Oui, patron," Toulouse replied before he dashed off the platform and out of the dressing room to the main area where his patron was.

To his amazement, Toulouse found that the other customers stopped giving him weird looks though he did still hear some whispering.

His mother was right. There was power in having a good appearance.

"Thank you for your help, James," Pendleton said shaking his old friend's hand.

"Don't mention it, Sai," James replied. "Please let me know if you need any help with him. The lad may be a bit slow and nervous, but I can tell he has a good head on his shoulders. Say, why don't I ask my wife to work with him? She speaks French, you know. She teaches it to her students."

"That is very generous, but I think I can manage him. I will need teaching materials, though…"

"Say no more. I'll see what the missus can do."

"Thank you very much," Pendleton said before letting go of James' hand and turning to his assistant. "Toulouse, rentrons à la maison." (Let's go home, Toulouse.)

Toulouse nodded to his patron before James interrupted, "Sai, you know you can return to the church any time. I know you've had it hard since the loss of your father, but it might be good for you, for him, too. I mean, he does need to work on his English."

Pendleton glanced back at his friend and at his new servant before replying, "You might have a point. I suppose Toulouse could learn a great deal from just listening. We'll be there."

"Oh, you don't know how happy that makes me and your father, too," James said before Pendleton smiled warmly, nodded his head, and headed out the door with Toulouse in tow.

Toulouse climbed into the carriage followed by his patron after he had a short word with the valet. Then, they were off.

Neither of them said a word. Toulouse leaned against the soft leathery upholstery of his seat to look out one window while his patron sat there looking out the other. The steady motion of the horses riding on top of the cobblestone road relaxed the teen, and before he knew it, he had fallen fast asleep.

The next thing Toulouse remembered was his boss gently shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

"Toulouse, réveillez-vous," the future Sir Pentious said. « Nous sommes à la maison. »

(Wake up, Toulouse. We're home.)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse said groggily getting up and climbing out of the carriage to an awesome sight.

The mansion was a three-story brick home with flowered-vines growing along the walls. It was the type of place that the child had heard of in books but could have never dreamed was possible in real life.

His weary eyes opened wide as they took in the marvelous sight from the top of the roof to the end of the courtyard that met the cobblestone road. Toulouse was so amazed that he hardly even noticed the servants trying their best to avoid running into him.

"Toulouse," his patron said finally getting the excited teen's attention. "Allons à l'intérieur pour que je puisse vous montrer votre chambre. Vous avez besoin de vous nettoyer avant le dîner. »

(Toulouse, let's go inside so that I can show you to your room. You need to clean yourself before dinner.)

Toulouse's face twisted in confusion as he said, "Ma chambre? J'ai ma propre chambre?"

(My room? I have my own room?)

"Oui," the future snake demon replied with a warm smile. "Suivez-moi." (Yes, follow me.)

Toulouse quickly rushed to follow his boss as a gentle middle-aged man at the door opened the door to allow them to both enter.

"Good evening, sir," the man at the door said. "The purchases you made are heading to the guest room as you ordered. Speaking of which, are we having a guest tonight?"

"Not exactly," Pendleton replied gesturing towards the teenager following right behind him. "This boy is my new assistant, Toulouse."

"You found him quickly," the man at the door said bowing his head slightly. "Nice to have you with us, young man."

Not understanding his words, Toulouse only bowed back. The man could do nothing except look back at his boss in confusion.

"Oh, the boy is French and cannot speak English," Pendleton said. "Not yet anyway. You will have to excuse him for not responding properly."

"That is quite alright, sir," the man at the door replied. "Bienvenue, Toulouse." (Welcome, Toulouse.)

"Bienvenue," Toulouse repeated mindlessly while admiring the doorman's shiny shoes.

"Regardez aux yeux, Toulouse," Pendleton said. « Rappelez ? » (Look at the eyes, Toulouse. Remember?)

"Oh," Toulouse said quickly looking at the man's eyes. "Merci, monsieur." (Oh, thank you, sir.)

« Bon, » Pendleton said with an approving nod before turning back to his servant. "Thank you, Jeffrey. You can take your dinner now. We'll have ours in about an hour. I think we can handle ourselves until then. Toulouse, suivez-moi."

Toulouse turned around and followed his boss inside the manor. He couldn't believe his eyes. The home was brightly lit in the receding light. That was the first thing Toulouse noticed.

He looked up to see a brightly lit chandelier hanging from the ceiling. From there, he saw the white wood-paneled walls and looked down to see the white-tiled floor that reflected it. It was overwhelmingly beautiful.

"Toulouse!" his patron called from midway up the stairs in front of him. "Venez-vous?" (Toulouse, are you coming?)

"Oui, monsieur le patron," Toulouse said walking quickly up the stairs to join his boss.

The walk continued silently until they reached the top of the stairs and Toulouse beheld a family portrait that stopped him in his tracks.

In the portrait was a brown-haired and brown-eyed English gentleman and standing next to him was a smiling Indian woman wearing a brightly-colored sari. Then, standing under them was their child, a mixed-race boy wearing traditional Indian clothing of his own.

Toulouse stepped closer to the painting studying the little boy's face. Upon closer inspection, the child had his new patron's face and distinct snake-like eyes.

"Aimez-vous la peinture ?" the future Sir Pentious asked from behind him. (Do you like the painting?)

Toulouse turned around suddenly, looked shyly at the floor in embarrassment, and said, "Oui, patron."

Toulouse wanted to ask his patron about the portrait, but he struggled to build up the courage to.

The future snake demon tilted Toulouse's face up so that it was facing his and said, "Si vous êtes curieux de savoir quelque chose, vous devriez poser une question, Toulouse."

(If you are curious about something, you must ask a question, Toulouse.)

Intimidated by the second instance of such physical contact that evening, Toulouse shook his head out of his new patron's grip and found the courage to ask, "Patron, c'est une peinture de votre famille?"

(Boss, is that a painting of your family?)

"Oui," his patron responded sadly.

That sadness prompted Toulouse to ask, "Où est votre famille?" (Where is your family?)

"Dans le ciel, comme le vôtre, » his patron responded sadly without looking at him as he continued walking down the hallway. "Maintenant, suivez-moi. Votre chambre n'est pas loin d'ici."

(In heaven, like yours. Now, follow me. Your room is not far from here.)

Toulouse nodded and obediently followed behind him. He and his new patron had more in common than he thought.

As Toulouse followed his boss past several rooms, his eyes wandered around and marveled at the sheer size and beauty of the house around him.

That wonder disappeared however when Toulouse began noticing some rather disturbing paintings on the walls.

These paintings were from a culture that Toulouse had barely even heard of. He knew that much. One painting had a dark-skinned man playing a flute to charm a cobra in a basket. Another had a woman in strange clothing sitting on top of water with…four arms?

The paintings only got more bizarre and fantastic from there. One painting had an almost completely naked boy surrounded by large snakes. Another had a group of men walking into a serpent's mouth. Yet another one had a blue man with four arms sitting on a throne of snakes with a well-dressed woman by his side.

The last painting stopped Toulouse in his tracks for a moment before he fearfully caught up to his patron.

His patron smiled and asked, "Aimez-vous mes peintures?" (Do you like my paintings?)

"C'est fantastique, les peintures," Toulouse replied nervously. « Vous aimez bien les serpents. »

(The paintings are fantastic. You really like snakes.)

The future Sir Pentious smiled and said, "Dans l'hindouisme, le serpent symbolise le karma, l'idée que tous les hommes récoltent ce qu'ils sèment dans cette vie et dans la suivante. C'est une des raisons pour laquelles j'aime les serpents. »

(In Hinduism, the snake symbolizes karma, the idea that all men reap what they sow in this life and in the next. It's one of the reasons I love snakes.)

"Oui, monsieur le patron," Toulouse answered politely pretending to not be freaked out by what he just said.

"Et voilà," Pendleton said stopping in front of an opened door. "Voilà votre chambre." (And here we are. Here's your room.)

Toulouse looked inside to an amazing sight. The room was bigger than his home in France had been.

The room was simple but elegant. It had a queen-sized bed with a white bedside table beside it, a mysterious white door to the left of it, a large wardrobe on the opposite wall that the maid was putting his new clothes in, a chestnut desk between the windows on the right, a vanity next to the door on the left, and a white leather chair besides the window in the corner. The walls had white paneling and two large windows looking over the garden outside.

A large smile came across Toulouse's face as he admired his new room.

"Vous aimez bien votre chambre ? » Pendleton asked his assistant. (Do you like your room?)

"Oui, monsieur le patron," Toulouse answered remembering to look his patron in the eyes. "Merci."

Toulouse happily set his broken monkey toy on the bedside table to show that he was all moved in.

"De rien," Pendleton replied opening the white door leading to a bathroom. "Venez. Vous avez besoin de nettoyer."

(You're welcome. Come. You need to clean.)

Toulouse looked at his patron in confusion but unquestioningly obeyed him. The future Sir Pentious brought Toulouse into his own full bathroom. The floor had white tiles. There was dark green wallpaper on the walls, a sink on the left wall with a toilet next to it and a mirror above it, a large tub in the middle of the room that Toulouse tried to ignore, and a big window looking into the garden. The sink had a small brush on it and other products that Toulouse didn't recognize. The tub had some products of the same caliber.

Toulouse knew very well how the tub worked, but the other items had him confused. In France, the toilet was the outhouse, and the sink was a wash basin. In the workhouse, the toilets were the chamber pots and sinks were practically nonexistent.

"Êtes-vous confus, Toulouse?" Pendleton asked with some slight amusement behind his voice. (Are you confused, Toulouse?)

Toulouse nodded honestly and replied, "Je n'ai jamais vu ces choses avant. » (I have never seen these things before.)

"Eh bien, permettez-moi de vous montrer comment les utiliser, » the future snake demon said as he pulled the chain that flushed the toilet causing Toulouse to step backwards in surprise. (Well then, allow me to show you how to use them.)

Pendleton demonstrated how everything worked. When he was done, Toulouse nodded to show that he understood, picked up a small washcloth, lathered it with soap, and started lathering the sink.

"Toulouse, qu'est-ce que vous faites ? » his patron asked. (Toulouse, what are you doing?)

"Nettoyer comme vous m'avez dit, » Toulouse replied confusedly. (Cleaning, like you told me to.)

« Oh, » Pendleton replied embarrassedly facepalming. « Pardonnez-moi. J'ai mal parlé. Quel est le mot qui signifie pour vous nettoyer ? » (Forgive me. I misspoke. What is the word that means to clean yourself?)

« Uh, se laver? » Toulouse replied. (Uh, se laver/to wash oneself?)

"Oui, c'est le mot correct, » the future Sir Pentious said in relief. "Je veux que vous vous lavez dans la baignoire. » (Yes, that's the right word. I want you to wash yourself in the bathtub.)

Toulouse's face flashed in a brief panic as he thought back to the cold bath he was given at the workhouse and replied in increasing panic, "Un bain? Je ne veux pas que vous me lavez. Ne me touchez pas, s'il vous plaît… » (A bath ? I don't want you to wash me. Don't touch me please…)

"Toulouse…" his patron tried to interrupt.

"Pas encore, pas encore, pas encore, » Toulouse started repeating to himself as he began crying and threw his hat on the floor. (Not again!)

"Toulouse…" his patron patiently tried to interrupt again before his assistant's whispers grew into agonizing shouts of pain.

"PAS ENCORE! PAS ENCORE! PAS ENCORE ! PAS ENCORE ! » Toulouse yelled repeatedly as he started pacing around and flapping his hands repetitively like a bird.

The future Sir Pentious stood and watched in stunned silence as he witnessed his assistant melt down for the first time. His eyes watched him in frightened confusion as he clearly struggled to figure out what to do.

Toulouse's cries quickly became unintelligible sobs that could be heard throughout the house. All the fear he had been bottling up inside came out in a torrential flood. His clothes started feeling uncomfortable, so he took off his coat and dropped it on the ground. He pulled the pocket watch out of his pocket and clung onto it for dear life while still flapping his other hand.

As he kept pacing around and flapping his hand in a frenzy, the maid who had just finished hanging up his clothes came into the doorway, peaked in fearfully, and cried out, "Good God! He's as mad as a hatter! Master, shall I fetch a policeman?!"

"No!" Pendleton replied quickly. "That is unnecessary. He isn't mad. I can handle this, Celeste. Now, go downstairs and join your husband for dinner please. We need some time alone."

Celeste quickly exited the room and started heading downstairs.

Once she was gone, the future Sir Pentious yelled, "TOULOUSE!"

The shout was loud enough to make Toulouse stop in his tracks and stop crying for a moment.

After visibly hesitating for a moment, Pendleton said, "Toulouse, dites-moi cinq choses que vous pouvez voir maintenant. » (Toulouse, tell me five things you can see right now.)

"Mais, patron…" Toulouse began in confusion. (But, boss…)

"Maintenant, Toulouse," Pendleton interrupted gently but firmly. "Cinq choses que vous pouvez voir. »

(Now, Toulouse. Five things you can see.)

"Uh," Toulouse said as he wiped his tears and started looking around. "Uh, vous…le miroir…l'évier…la toilette…le bain…" (Uh, uh, you…the mirror…the sink…the toilet…the bath…)

"Bon," his patron interrupted looking for another idea. "Maintenant…quatre choses que vous pouvez toucher. » (Good. Now…four things that you can touch.)

"Mon montre de poche," Toulouse said running his fingers over his father's broken pocket watch with his hand before running his fingers over his vest. "Mon gilet, oh…" (My pocket watch, my vest, oh…)

Toulouse sat down on the ground, pulled off his shoes and socks, let his warm feet touch the cold floor, and said, "Le sol…Et…uh…" (The ground…and uh…)

Before Toulouse could think of another response, his patron turned on the faucet in the bathtub, calmly grabbed Toulouse's hand, and pulled him towards the running water.

"Patron!" Toulouse cried out in a panic as his patron stoically placed his hand under the running water. "Non! Non! Non…Attendez. C'est pas froid." (Boss! No! No! No…Wait. It's not cold.)

"Si," the future snake demon said gently. "Je ne vais pas vous laver dans un bain froid. Vous allez vous laver dans un bain où vous contrôlez la température de l'eau. Est-ce que vous comprennez ? »

(Yes, I am not going to bathe you in a cold bath. You are going to wash yourself in a bath where you control the temperature of the water. Do you understand?)

Toulouse nodded timidly in embarrassment and said, "Oui, patron. Pardonnez-moi." (Yes, boss. I'm sorry.)

"Bon, maintenant, vous vous lavez pendant que je me prépare pour le dîner, » Pendleton said before he turned to leave Toulouse to his bath.(Good, now, you bathe while I prepare myself for dinner.)

Before the patron could leave however, Toulouse pulled back his boss by the sleeve of his coat and said, "Patron, attendez..." (Boss, wait…)

Pendleton reflexively brushed his hand off him before he replied, "Oui, Toulouse?"

Toulouse untied his tie, pulled the rosary out from under his shirt, untied his pocket watch, and said, "Voulez-vous mettre mes choses sur la table de chevet s'il vous plaît?" (Would you put my things on the bedside table please?)

The future Sir Pentious paused in surprise for a second before he took the things from Toulouse's hand and exited the bathroom shutting the door behind him.

As soon as the door was shut, Toulouse finished stripping off his clothes and took his bath. He cleaned off all the dirt that had accumulated on his body since he had received that icy cold bath back in the workhouse. The warm water was comforting and relaxing, just like the baths he would take at home. It was heaven.

Eventually, Toulouse's relaxation was interrupted by a knock on his bathroom door.

"Toulouse," a feminine voice said. "I've laid out your clothes for dinner."

Toulouse didn't understand the woman's words, but he understood that it was time for him to leave the bathtub. He unplugged the stopper to let the water drain and found a towel to dry himself off with.

As he dried himself off, Toulouse couldn't help but stare in fascination as the water left the drain. He continued to stare until the water was all gone. It was amazing. He had never seen plumbing like that in action.

Toulouse excitedly used the bathroom and afterwards used the sink just to watch the same thing before reluctantly realizing he had to leave the bathroom or risk getting in trouble with his boss.

The teenager finished drying himself off and left the bathroom. Upon exiting, he noticed the clothes laid out for him on his bed. It was a tuxedo.

Toulouse looked at the strange outfit curiously. It was something that only the very rich wore in storybooks. He had never seen such an outfit in real life even when wandering the streets of London with his mother. It was another surreal element to what had been the most bizarre day of his life.

After staring at the fine clothing for another moment, Toulouse began getting himself dressed. He pulled on his underwear and then the black pants.

Toulouse was about to put on the white shirt when he remembered his rosary and walked over to the bedside table to get it so that he could wear it under his shirt.

To his horror, once he got there, there was his rosary sitting where it was supposed to be, but his pocket watch was missing. Toulouse looked on the bed and saw that his wind-up monkey was gone, too.

The teen's heart immediately quickened his pace in a panic as he put the rosary on around his neck. His breath grew shallow and the tears began falling as he anxiously started looking around his room for his items in a frenzy that grew more desperate every minute.

Toulouse pulled out the drawers of his bedside table, pulled the sheets and blankets off his bed, pulled out the drawers of his vanity, looked under his bed, pulled all the clothes out of his wardrobe, cleaned out his linen drawers, and even checked the bathroom again. He could find nothing besides his rosary.

At this point, Toulouse's silent tears turned to loud sobs. He sat on the edge of his bed and continued sobbing loudly.

His patron had lied to him. He had stolen the last of his possessions and sold them. Toulouse just knew it. All this was too good to be true.

That realization made Toulouse sob even louder as he allowed his head to droop and rest in his hands. His cries were interrupted when he heard the door creak and looked up to see the maid from before.

She looked around the room in shock and said, "What have you done, young man?"

Toulouse didn't understand her words, but his cries gave way to anger at her and at her evil boss.

To express that anger, Toulouse picked up a pillow from the floor, threw it at the door, and yelled, "Laissez-moi tranquille!" (Leave me alone!)

The maid yelped in horror, shut the door before the pillow even reached it, and yelled, "Oh, my God! The lad's gone bloody mad!" before he heard her running down the hall.

Toulouse still couldn't understand her words, but he realized he needed to leave before his master returned.

He pulled on his socks and a pair of dress shoes, picked up one of his fancy coats from off the floor, stuffed one of his white shirts in its pocket, opened the window of his bedroom, and ran onto the roof with the coat and shirt carried under his arm in a bundle.

But before Toulouse could reach the edge, he heard his patron call out his name.

"TOULOUSE!" his boss called from the windowsill. "Que faites-vous ? Venez-ici ! »

(TOULOUSE! What are you doing? Come here!)

Toulouse turned around to see his patron looking very displeased, but he was too angry to be afraid.

"NON !" Toulouse retorted angrily with tears streaming down his face as he walked back over to where his patron was standing. "Vous êtes un monstre ! Je ne peux pas croire que je vous faisais confiance ! Toutes les belles choses que vous avez fait pour moi était juste un acte ! Vous êtes un menteur et un voleur comme ces salauds qui m'enfermaient ! Ces choses étaient tout ce que j'avais de ma famille et vous les avez emmenés ! Maintenant, il ne me reste plus rien ! Je vous déteste ! Je pars! »

(NO! You're a monster! I can't believe I trusted you! All the nice things you did for me was just an act! You are a liar and a thief like those bastards who locked me away! Those things were all I had left of my family and you took them! Now, I have nothing left! I hate you! I'm leaving!)

After a moment of tense silence, Pendleton responded calmly, "Toulouse, dites- moi cinq choses que vous pouvez voir maintenant. » (Toulouse, tell me five things you can see now.)

« Je me fiche de votre stupide jeu ! Je m'enfuis! » Toulouse replied only inches away from his boss's face. (I don't give a damn about your stupid game! I'm running away!)

"Si vous jouez le stupide jeu, vous pouvez partir sans aucune objection, » the future snake demon replied firmly. « Maintenant, revenez à l'intérieur." (If you play the stupid game, you can leave without any objection. Now, come inside.)

Toulouse glared at him, but he reluctantly climbed back into the room, sighed, started looking around, and said with his undisguised teenage snark, "D'accord. Uh…Mes doigts, mon estomac, mes chaussures…" (Okay. Uh…my fingers, my stomach, my shoes…)

"Voilà!" the patron said revealing the items in his hands.

Toulouse couldn't believe his eyes. There was his pocket watch and his wind-up monkey.

His patron opened the pocket watch to reveal that the gears were working normally again and handed the item to his assistant. Then, he walked to the bedside table, cranked up the monkey, and let it skip around on the flat surface.

« J'ai pris votre montre de poche et votre singe à mon atelier pour me faire réparer, » his patron explained placing a hand on his assistant's bare shoulder. « Les réparations n'étaient pas quelque chose de trop difficile heureusement. Juste des engrenages lâches et des mécanismes rouillés. Je voulais vous les rendre, Toulouse. Je comprends la raison pour laquelle vous ne me faites pas confiance encore mais je vous assure que vous n'avez plus besoin d'avoir peur de moi."

(I took your pocket watch and your monkey to my workshop to fix them. The repairs weren't anything of too much difficulty thankfully. Just some loose gears and some rusted mechanisms. I always planned on returning them to you, Toulouse. I understand why you don't trust me yet, but I assure you don't need to be afraid of me.)

Toulouse felt the happy tears running down his face.

He turned around, dropped his bundle on the floor, gave his boss a kiss on each cheek, gave him a hug, and said, "Merci beaucoup, monsieur le patron! Je suis tellement désolé pour faire le désordre et ne pas vous faire confiance. Pardonnez-moi. »

(Thank you so much, Mr. Boss! I am so sorry for making the mess and not trusting you. Please forgive me.)

The future Sir Pentious stood there in shock for a second before he allowed himself to pat the teen's bare back and replied awkwardly, "De rien. Mais pourriez-vous vous habiller s'il vous plaît ? C'est contre le protocole d'embrasser quelqu'un sans vêtements. »

(You're welcome. But could you get dressed please? It's against protocol to hug someone without clothes on.)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse said happily picking up the white shirt he had stuffed into the coat pocket from the floor. « Je nettoierai ma chambre aussi. » (Yes, boss. I will clean my room, too.)

« Ne vous inquiétez pas pour ça, Toulouse, » Pendleton said. « Je demanderai à une domestique de le faire. Pour nous, c'est l'heure du dîner. Maintenant, finissez de vous habiller pour que nous puissions manger. »

(Don't worry about it, Toulouse. I will ask a maid to do it. For us, it's dinnertime. Now, finish getting dressed so we can eat.)

Toulouse finished getting dressed while his boss found Celeste and asked her to clean his room.

"Master Pendleton, I don't know why you are keeping this boy around," Celeste replied less than pleased as she entered the room and started picking clothes off the floor. "He's mad as a loon."

"I told you, Celeste," Pendleton replied. "Toulouse is not mad. He's just a scared farm boy who doesn't know how to behave in polite society. He'll learn."

Celeste sighed and said, "You're just like your father, giving chances to even the most unpromising among us. I hope for your sake he works out."

"Oh, he will," Pendleton replied as Toulouse finished putting on his dinner jacket and started tying his bow tie in the mirror not understanding a word of their conversation. "I have a way of telling about these things you know."

"If you say so, sir," Celeste replied skeptically while the future snake demon examined his young charge's clothes.

"Bien fait, Toulouse," Pendleton replied while flashing a genuinely impressed smile. « Maintenant, suivez-moi à la table de dîner. » (Well done, Toulouse. Now, follow me to the dinner table.)

Toulouse looked back at Celeste, nervously stepped in front of his patron, and asked, "Patron, comment dit-on merci en anglais?" (Boss, how do you say thank you in English?)

The future snake demon looked at Toulouse curiously and replied, "On dit 'thank you.'" (They say 'thank you.')

Toulouse then looked back at Celeste and called, "Madame Celeste?"

Celeste stopped her work to look at him and he said with a heavy French accent, "T'ank you!" before he nodded his head and walked into the hallway.

Celeste smiled and said, "You might have picked a promising one after all, Master Pendleton."

The future Sir Pentious replied with a smile before he turned his assistant into the hallway and said, "Toulouse, suivez-moi." (Toulouse, follow me.)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse replied briskly following behind him as he headed down the hallway now lit up with oil lamps.

They walked down the grand staircase and down a long corridor before they reached the dining room. The room was large and brightly lit up with a grand crystal chandelier and the fading light of day coming in through the windows. There were many chairs, but the two chairs at the end of the table next to the large blazing fireplace were the ones with food next to them.

Toulouse looked around the room and especially at the food in wonder. On the table, two hot bowls of soup were waiting. Toulouse hadn't eaten a warm meal in months. It was enough to bring him to tears.

Before anyone could stop him, Toulouse dashed towards a bowl, picked it up, inhaled it delicious aroma, and began drinking from it.

"TOULOUSE, QUE FAITES-VOUS?!" Pendleton yelled as he grabbed the bowl away from his assistant and placed it on the table. "Vous n'êtes pas un animal ! Si vous voulez survivre dans la société polie, vous devez me laisser vous enseigner comment se comporter… »

(TOULOUSE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! You are not an animal! If you want to survive in polite society, you must let me teach you how to behave…)

"Il y a des règles pour manger ? (There are rules for eating?)" Toulouse asked wiping his chin with his sleeve and looking at his patron in confusion as he pulled out a chair and gestured for him to sit down.

"Dans la société polie, il y a des règles pour tout, Toulouse, » the future Sir Pentious replied as he sat his assistant down in the chair and pushed him closer to the table before walking over to the chair at the end of the table next to him and seating himself. "Si l'une de ces règles est brisée, vous serez immédiatement rejeté par tout le monde. C'est pourquoi je vais vous enseigner ces règles moi-même afin que vous vous adaptera avec les riches et les puissants quand j'ai besoin de vous. Maintenant, regardez-moi. Je vais vous montrer comment manger de la soupe et tous nos autres plats correctement. D'accord ?»

(In polite society, there are rules for everything, Toulouse. If one of these rules are broken, you will be rejected by everyone immediately. That's why I am going to teach you these rules myself so that you will fit in with the rich and powerful when I need you. Now, watch me. I am going to show you how to eat soup and all our other dishes properly. Okay?)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse said picking up a spoon to eat the soup just like his patron.

Toulouse followed his master's example for the rest of the evening, but eating food like a rich man was exhausting.

After the first course, there was another course and another course and another course. The food was delicious and filling, but learning how to eat like a rich man was dull and tedious. Every movement and motion had precise rules that were agonizingly boring. It was all Toulouse could do to stay awake.

The poor teenager was leaning back in his chair and on the verge of falling asleep when his patron finally stopped lecturing him and said, "Toulouse, voulez-vous le dessert?" (Toulouse, do you want dessert?)

Toulouse suddenly snapped back to life, sat up in his chair, and said, "Le dessert? Vraiment?" (Dessert? Really?)

"Oui," Sir Pendleton said as his servants cleared away the dishes in front of him onto a cart and placed a plate of English toffee cheesecake in front of him.

"T'ank you!" Toulouse said to his servers as he had every other time that they had cleared the table and placed new dishes in front of him. "Oh, mon Dieu." (Oh, my God.)

Toulouse couldn't believe his eyes. The cheesecake with the toffee crumbled on top of it was something he had never seen. At least, not in a long time.

The last time Toulouse had an honest-to-God dessert was when the neighbors baked him and his mother a bunch of meringues before they left for London. Before that, his mother would bake all the time. He would help her. His father would, too. The result was always worth it.

Toulouse closed his eyes and let the smell of the cake fill his nostrils and bring back more memories that brought tears to his eyes as he thanked God for this wonderful food.

"Toulouse?" his patron asked bemusedly interrupting his thoughts. "Tout va bien?" (Toulouse? Are you okay?)

Toulouse opened his eyes and happily said, "Oui, monsieur le patron. Merci beaucoup!"

"De rien…" the future Sir Pentious replied looking askance before he took a bite of his cake and took a sip of his tea. (You're welcome…)

Toulouse ate quietly for a while without his boss's interruption. He took his time with every bite so that he could make the meal last for as long as possible. Every bite was divine to the underweight teen. So much so that Toulouse was sad when the pastry was all gone and he was drinking his tea.

"Toulouse," his patron said suddenly interrupting the teen's thoughts. "Aimez-vous votre nouvelle maison ?" (Toulouse, do you like your new home?)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse replied with a smile. "C'est une belle maison. » (Yes, boss. It's a beautiful house.)

« Merci, » Pendleton replied. « Je suis heureux de partager cette maison avec vous, mais je sais que vous vous demandez ce que je vous ai embauché pour faire. »

(Thank you. I am happy to share my home with you, but I know you are wondering what I have hired you to do.)

"Si, vous êtes un riche inventeur et je suis votre assistante, » Toulouse replied before taking a sip of his tea. « Je rappelle. » (No, you are a rich inventor and I am your assistant. I remember.)

« Ce n'est qu'un de vos emplois, » Pendleton confessed. « Il y a un autre. Je me veux aider changer le monde. » (That is only one of your jobs. There is one other. I want you to help me change the world.)

When Toulouse gave Pendleton a surprised and shocked look, he began to elaborate.

"Toulouse, vous et moi, nous comprenons ce monde," the future Sir Pentious replied. «Nous comprenons ses préjugés et sa haine envers quiconque est différent pour quelque raison que ce soit. Le monde dans lequel nous vivons appartient aux sangsues et aux prédateurs. Les humains qui veulent tout abuser et ceux qui sont faibles. Les gens bons et justes comme le tailleur M. James sont surpassés par les cruels et les méchants. Ils travaillent dur pour faire du monde un endroit meilleur et ils font de bons progrès, mais ils doivent se battre dur pour faire ce progrès. S'ils ne sont pas assez forts pour continuer, ils finiront par céder au désespoir, comme mon père… »

(Toulouse, you and I understand this world. We understand its prejudices and its hatred towards those who are different for any reason. The world we live in belongs to leeches and predators. Humans who want to just want to abuse it and anyone who's weak. Good and righteous men like the tailor Mr. James are outnumbered by the cruel and the wicked. They work hard to make the world a better place and they make some good progress, but they have to fight hard to make this progress. If they aren't strong enough to keep going, they give into despair, like my father did…)

Pendleton's face trailed off for a second as a tear came out of the corner of his eye that he quickly tried to conceal.

"Patron ?" Toulouse interrupted sympathetically.

"Mais nous allons changer ce monde," Pendleton said more seriously. "Nous allons faire de ce monde un endroit où de bons hommes peuvent réussir contre les corrompus. Pour ce faire, j'ai besoin d'aide. C'est pour ça que je vais vous rendre fort, comme un serpent, comme moi. En ce moment, vous êtes faible comme un œuf, mais bientôt, vous serez assez fort pour faire ce travail. Alors, qu'est que vous pensez ?»

(But we are going to change the world. We are going to make this world a place where good men can succeed against the corrupt. I need help to do that. That is why I am going to make you strong, like a serpent, like me. Right now, you are as weak as an egg, but soon, you'll be strong enough to do this work. So, what do you think?)

Toulouse wasted no time in replying. He was hanging on his patron's every word. Toulouse had spent his childhood reading about the heroes of the Bible and the heroes in his books who stood up for justice. He wanted to be a hero just like them. He wanted to stop bad people like the ones in the workhouse. He wanted to change the world.

"Je veux vous aider, patron," Toulouse replied sincerely. « Je veux changer le monde aussi. »

(I want to help you. I want to change the world, too.)

"Excellent," the future Sir Pentious replied with a sincere smile before quickly checking his pocket watch and getting up from his chair signaling Toulouse to get up and start following him. "Oh, I'd better be getting you to sleep. Toulouse, c'est l'heure d'aller dormir. À partir de demain matin, je vais commencer à vous enseigner comment lire, écrire et parler en anglais et comment se comporter dans la société polie afin que vous puissiez m'aider plus efficacement. Est-ce que vous comprenez, Toulouse ? »

(Toulouse, it's time to go to sleep. Starting tomorrow morning, I am going to begin teaching you how to read, write, and speak in English and how to behave in polite society so that you can help me more effectively? Do you understand, Toulouse?)

"Oui, patron," Toulouse said excitedly following his new patron back through the house. "Je suis prêt à changer le monde." (Yes, boss. I am ready to change the world.)

"Bon," the future snake demon said barely concealing a yawn.

The pair were silent until they passed Toulouse's bedroom. Pendleton opened the door to the now-cleaned room, turned on the oil lamp within, and gestured for his new assistant to go in.

"Bonne nuit, Toulouse," his patron said as Toulouse entered the room and started untying the bow around his neck. "Rappelez de vous brosser les dents."

(Goodnight, Toulouse. Remember to brush your teeth.)

Toulouse looked confusedly at his boss as he finished untying his bow and laid it and the crucifix on the bedside table and asked, "Brossez les dents? Que cela signifie-t-il ?"

(Brush your teeth? What does that mean?)

The future Sir Pentious looked back at Toulouse, facepalmed at his ignorance for the first time, and muttered to himself, "Peasants…"

"Patron?" Toulouse asked not understanding the English word as he managed to get his shoes and socks off.

"Suivez-moi, Toulouse," Pendleton replied tiredly as he entered the room and walked into Toulouse's bathroom.

Pendleton taught Toulouse how to brush his teeth, step by step. It wasn't too difficult a task for Toulouse other than having to grow accustomed to the weird feeling in his mouth.

When Toulouse finished brushing and rinsing out his mouth for the first time, Pendleton turned down his servant's oil lamp and made his second attempt to leave the room.

"Au matin, patron," Toulouse called out before he took off his coat, placed his pocket watch on the bedside table next to his monkey, and turned down his blankets. "Merci!"

(I'll see you in the morning, boss. Thank you!)

In the hallway outside the room, the future Sir Pentious seemed to not hear him as he was adjusting the oil lamp.

Toulouse thought nothing of it or of his own attire as he climbed into bed with his dinner outfit on, the same as he would have back in the workhouse or in home in France, until he heard his master yell at him.

"Toulouse!" Pendleton said turning up the oil lamp in his servant's room in disbelief. "Que faites-vous ? Vous ne pouvez pas dormir dans vos vêtements de dîner. Qu'est-ce que vous pensez ? Habillez-vous en vêtements de couchage. »

(Toulouse! What are you doing? You cannot sleep in your dinner clothes. What are you thinking? Put on your sleeping clothes.)

Toulouse sat there feeling more confused than afraid.

"Mais patron, quels sont les vêtements de couchage ? » the teen asked confusedly tilting his head.

(But boss, what are sleeping clothes?)

A flash of realization came across his patron's face as he sighed and said, "Attendez un minute." (Wait a minute.)

His patron quickly returned with a long white- and blue-striped night shirt, tossed it to Toulouse, and instructed tiredly, "Au matin, mettez vos vêtements sales dans le panier dans votre salle de bains afin qu'ils puissent être lavés. Compris ? » (In the morning, put your dirty clothes in the basket in your bathroom so that they can be washed. Understood?)

« Oui, patron, » Toulouse replied quickly taking pulling off his dinner clothes and pulling on the night shirt while his patron turned down his oil lamp and went into the hallway to do the same.

"Bon nuit, Toulouse," the future Sir Pentious said tiredly. « Now, I can finally go to sleep…"

"Patron?" Toulouse asked suddenly interrupting his patron's mumblings.

"Oui?" Pendleton replied barely concealing his annoyance.

"Est-ce que 'go to sleep' signifie dormir ? » Toulouse asked as he climbed into his bed. (Does 'go to sleep' mean to sleep?)

The future snake demon looked at Toulouse with a slightly surprised smile for a moment before he replied, "Oui, vous êtes plus intelligents qu'ils ne le pensent." (Yes, you're smarter than they think.)

"Merci, patron," Toulouse replied as he rolled on his side and shut his eyes.

Unbeknownst to Toulouse at the time, his patron lingered in the hallway for a moment smiling at his promising new assistant before he shut the door and went to bed himself.


End file.
